


How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning?

by lilmsmoonstruck



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, rated for bad language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 00:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4543161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmsmoonstruck/pseuds/lilmsmoonstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall puts his foot in his mouth. Varric isn't sure whether to help him remove it or choke him with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning?

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first thing I've written for a long, long time, and the first time I have ever published anything to the internet. Shut up, vampire RPs on Quizilla don't count. I am so nervous I have hives.

It wasn't the silent treatment, not exactly. She wasn't ignoring him, she just... wasn't devoting as much time to him as usual. Her smiles, usually portioned unevenly in Blackwall's favour, shone on Krem at the moment as he demonstrated the way in which one might palm a card from the deck without drawing attention.

It wasn't that he was jealous at suddenly being forced to share Evelyn's attention. Maker knew he deserved to be- indeed, had been prepared to be- executed for what he'd done. Her choice to not only allow him to live, but live in Skyhold, _with her,_ had shocked him as much as the assorted onlookers. But she couldn't be reasonably expected to hold him in the same regard as before.

Except she _had._ She'd wandered over to the stables and laughed and joked and insisted on healing each and every tiny cut on his hands, telling him that if they became any more calloused they'd cut _her_ 'next time'.

As if aware of his observing her from his position at the bar, Evelyn looked up from her card game and quirked an eyebrow as if to say _What are you looking at?_ Disconcerted, Blackwall made up his mind and placed his tankard on the bar before jerking his head towards the door. She leaned in to the knot of card players for a few moments, before folding her hand, scooping up her remaining coin and walking stiffly past Blackwall to the door.

He joined her outside, ignoring the snide comment he half heard directed at his back as he passed a table of scouts enjoying their down-time in the corner. Evelyn stood directly beneath the lantern, the polished wood of the staff she wore strapped to her back at all times glinting in the lamplight. Normally it would also glint off her teeth as she smiled at him in welcome but today her lips were flat, her expression the neutral, closed off look of The Inquisitor deep in thought.

“What?” She asked as he stood next to her silently for several moments, wondering quite what to say. “What's wrong? You've been glaring at me across the tavern for half an hour.”

“Me?” His startled response bounced off the cobblestones, drawing the attention of a group of mage apprentices practising shooting coloured sparks into the night sky. He felt the censure of their gazes burn into his skin, and turned his back on them, planting a hand on the wall next to Evelyn's shoulder and leaning into it. “You've been ignoring me all evening.”

She blinked up at him. “No I haven't. I've been playing cards.”

“If you're angry with me, just _say it._ Don't act like nothing is wrong and then give me the cold shoulder when we're in company.” He leaned closer, worried his voice was still carrying across the courtyard. “Please, Evelyn. I understand if you changed your mind about having anything to do with me, but please just tell me.”

She tilted her face up to him, nose wrinkled. “What in Andraste's name are you talking about, you lumbering oaf?”

The use of her favourite endearment (Evelyn had never been one for sweetness) gave him pause. “I... the... Thom Ranier. What else would I be talking about?”

“Oh.” She folded her arms tight to her chest, leaning back against the wall. “No, I meant it when I said that was over. When have I ever gone back on my word?”

Blackwall looked down at her, assessing the line of her jaw and concluding that she was clenching her teeth. “You're angry about something else.”

“No.” She said, looking over his shoulder instead of at him. “No I'm not.”

“You are.” He said, shifting to one side so he was directly in front of her and she was forced to look him in the eye. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Stop towering over me.”

“You usually like it when I tower over you.”

She fixed him with a glare, and he had the distinct feeling that that was the only honest facial expression she'd worn for the entire evening. “Not right now I don't. Stop it.”

He obligingly stepped back, dropping his arm to his side. “What's wrong?”

Evelyn rubbed her nose roughly with a knuckle. “It's stupid.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I wasn't going to mention it.” She looked down at her boots and took a deep breath. He waited for her to speak further but the flat cogitating expression returned once more as she appeared to furiously think her response through. 

Blackwall mentally braced himself- he'd seen that look many times in negotiation, strategising and games of Wicked Grace. It gave no clues as to the pending decision but when it was made, it was usually delivered with such force it gave the listeners whiplash. 

“Look.” She said finally, her voice low and calm but with a flinty edge that made him wince. “You said we were going to get a house and a dog and I was going to cook you eggs.”

Blackwall scrubbed a hand over his face as he searched for the obvious offence in that statement. “You don't like dogs?”

“I love dogs.”

“You... don't like houses?” He hazarded, reminded painfully of a recent foray into the caves around Storm's coast. The tentative feeling around with a foot to avoid stepping onto the discarded egg sacs of newly hatched giant spiders evoked a very similar lurching feeling in the stomach.

Evelyn shot him an exasperated look. “Of course I like houses. It was the _eggs._ ”

Blackwall waited for comprehension to dawn but it didn't come, and he was forced to ask. “The eggs?”

“The eggs! You said I was going to cook you eggs!”

“You don't like eggs?”

The tense lines of her body finally erupted into movement and she turned around to the wall and kicked it in frustration. “I'm the fucking Inquisitor, Blackwall! I'm not going to cook your fucking eggs!”

“You don't like cooking.” He caught her fists as she whirled back to him and raised them as if to pound on his chest. “You don't have to cook! You're the Inquisitor, you could probably afford a cook if you wanted one.” It wasn't that she was exceptionally strong, but he'd taught her how to throw a decent punch himself and he wasn't keen to be on the receiving end of that again.

“That's not the _point!_ ” She wrenched her fists from his grasp and stalked past him and towards the steps that led into the hall, ponytail swinging with each stride. He caught up with her easily but decided it probably wasn't a good idea to block her path.

“What is the point?” He asked, jogging backwards a few steps ahead and to the side so he could see her face. “I don't understand.”

She ignored him and leaped forward to take the steps at a run. He followed behind, slowed down when he failed to turn around in time and nearly tumbled backwards onto the first step. He caught up again as she swept up the centre of the hall towards the door to her quarters. She halted when she got to it and spun on her heel to face him again.

“I spent the whole of my life in the Circle, being told what to do every day of my life, watched every day of my life, never having a hope of living my own life and making my own choices. And now I can finally do that. And when it's all over you want me to get married and get a dog and cook your dinners and pop out babies every year and and and- don't touch me!” She jerked her shoulder away from his hand when he reached forward. “I'm not going back to that kind of life!”

Blackwall ran the rejected hand through his hair, at a loss. “Getting married is not like living in the circle!”

“How would you fucking know?” The acoustics in this room were really incredible. Her profanity bounced off the walls and stained glass windows to echo back at him. “You never even thought about the Circle until you met me!”

“I'm not going to chain you to the kitchen! What sort of man do you think I am?”

“I don't know, Blackwall!” She fired back. “I thought I knew but we know how that turned out, don't we?”

He recoiled, then forced himself to calm down. He deserved that. 

“You're not a Grey Warden so I'm going to have to assume you're the sort who wants me to retire into the country and cook your fucking eggs!” She grabbed the door, stepped through, and after casting a molten glare around the room at the shameless onlookers, slammed it in his face.

“It was a joke!” He reached for the door handle, then dropped his arm to his side with a muttered curse. When he turned around he looked straight across the room at Varric, who had been scribbling on parchment by the firelight. The other man looked somewhat stunned, but quickly recovered.

“Trouble in paradise, Hero?” He chewed the end of his pen thoughtfully.

“If you put this in that book-”

“Every story needs a star-crossed romance!” Varric said, dropping his pen before folding his hands behind his head and staring into the middle distance. That usually meant he was planning a new chapter. 

“No.”

“I mean, yeah, usually the obstacles to love are tragic twists of fate, not idiocy.” He lazily slid down in his chair, stretching his legs out to prop his crossed ankles on the table. “Twice.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Blackwall pulled out a seat at the table and dropped himself into it. “You know what she's upset about, don't you?”

The dwarf chuckled. “Half of Skyhold knows what she's upset about now. Got a pair of lungs on her, that girl.”

“Well, I don't. Care to let me in on the secret?”

“Maker's balls, Blackwall! She just spelled it out for you.”

Blackwall stroked his beard for a few long minutes as he thought. “She thinks I want her to be a housewife.”

“Yes.”

“She's not happy about that.”

“No. Because...?” Varric prompted, the ring on his finger glinting gold in the firelight as he indicated that Blackwall keep going.

“Because she likes being independent. She doesn't think I'm going to change that, does she?” Blackwall huffed. “When have I ever given her the impression that I would do something like that?”

“Well I don't know what you get up to in that stable of yours- actually, no, I do know what you get up to in that stable of yours because that stable has no shutters on the windows. That's getting its own chapter, by the way, but I think I'm going to need to tweak it a little to get it past the censors-”

“ _Varric._ ”

Varric sat up straight in his chair and tugged his tunic straight in a businesslike fashion. “Look. Whatever you've said to her in the past, you have since revealed yourself to be a different person. Literally.”

“Not for her. I never lied when it came to her. I'm the same person then that I am now.”

“Oh, that's all right then. I don't know why she could possibly be angry about that, then. You lied about everything else but wanting to fuck her.” The hard stare he aimed at Blackwall belied the casual tone of voice.

“It was never about that!” The two men looked at the puddle of ink that slowly spread across the table, its container toppled by the sudden vibration of the table as Blackwall's open palm smacked down beside it. “Sorry.”

Varric righted the ink pot and scooped his papers out of the way before they were ruined further. “I know that.” He said, after a brief pause in which he appeared to count to ten under his breath. “And I think she probably also knows that. But she can't know for sure, can she?”

“Why?”

“Blackwall! You're a liar! You lied and nobody but you really knows for sure how which parts were lies and which weren't.” Varric reached out with shaking hands as if to grab the larger man by his shirt front and throttle him but clenched them into fists at the last moment and drew them back. “She has no reason to assume you were joking when you implied you'd liked her to be slaving away in the kitchen cooking your dinner.”

“All right. I see your point.” Blackwall sank down into his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “So what do I do now?”

“Do I have to explain the concept of an apology to you?” Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, just go away. I spent half the afternoon as a go between for Scout Harding and her girl and I'm over this love advice stuff.” He fluttered his fingers in the direction of the door. “Go and cuddle up to a horse, you'll think of something in the morning.”

Blackwall took the hint and left, leaving Varric to his writing. The dwarf sighed deeply and picked up his papers to examine how much of his work could be rescued from the ink spill. “I don't understand why everyone comes to me, anyway,” he muttered to himself, “I can barely keep my own love life straight, let alone anyone else's.”

**

Evelyn woke to drips of something warm and wet on her face. She cautiously opened one eye and found herself nose-to-muzzle with the biggest dog she had ever seen. She jerked backwards, taking her nostrils out of the range of its warm, damp breath, and nearly rolled out of the other side of the bed- no mean feat as it was big enough for three people.

A deep chuckle made her start again and she looked up to find Blackwall leaning against the banister with a huge tray in his arms.

“I know I said I love dogs,” She said, belatedly pulling the blankets up to her chin, more to increase her chances of protecting her face from the dog if it decided to slobber on her some more than to protect her modesty from Blackwall. “But I love being woken up in ways that don't involve slobber more.”

He stepped closer, letting the aroma from the large earthenware mug waft towards her. The rich, bitter smell of cocoa hit her and she moaned appreciatively.

“All right. Forgiven.” She held out her hands, making the grabby motions usually associated with toddlers. “Give.”

Blackwall walked around to the other side of the bed and sat on it before twisting to slide the tray onto her lap to free his hands to pull off his boots. She took it from him and balanced it carefully on the knees of her crossed legs, then patted the mattress in front of her to signal to the dog, who was clearly doing his best sitting, that it could join them on the bed.

“You don't know what I had to do to get some of Iron Bull's cocoa.” Blackwall said, settling against the headboard and holding out a hand to the massive hound, who obligingly went and slobbered on it. “How can you drink that? It's so bitter.”

“I like it. It- What is this?” Evelyn had lifted the cover on one of the plates on the tray and looked suspiciously at the slightly gelatinous mass within.

“It's an omelette.”

Evelyn lifted another cover, and then another. “You cooked me eggs. Lots of eggs.”

“I didn't know how you liked them so I did all of them.”

She looked at him then, for a long moment. His expression was usually hard to read as most of his face was hidden in his beard, but she could just make out a hint of nerves around the corners of his eyes. His hand was clenched against the flank of the dog, who was eyeing the tray in her lap with keen interest.

“I forgot to mention, didn't I?” She said finally. “I don't actually eat eggs.”

“You don't eat eggs.” He repeated, his tone deadpan.

“No, I hate them. They give me terrible gas.” She pushed the tray onto the bedside table to get then out of the dog's reach. “Did you cook these yourself?”

“I did. Evelyn...” He let go of the dog, and reached forward to smooth a strand of hair out of her face, then cupped the back of her head in one, large warm palm. “I'm sorry I upset you. I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll walk the dog, I'll change nappies- that's if you want to have children, of course, and I wouldn't push you to have them at all if you don't want to-”

“Blackwall.” She turned her face into his hand, rubbing her cheek against the callouses on his palm. “I know you want to have children. You carved a toddler-sized rocking horse, for Andraste's sake.”

“I want you more.” He said, deep voice slightly roughened with emotion. “As long as you're by my side, I don't care what happens.”

Evelyn wrinkled her nose, forcing back the stupid soppy moisture in her eyes that threatened to spill into tears. Honestly, how the fuck had she acquired a notoriety even in Orlais when she was ready to burst into tears at the slightest display of affection. Josephine's powers of reputation-spinning were incredible.

“Are you still angry with me?” He asked, and although his expression was still almost unreadable the slight cant to his eyebrows was plaintive.

She pretended to consider this for a moment, then regretted when he began to look worried. “No. Even though you cooked me eggs and woke me up with a giant slobbering dog.” She grinned at him, and for the first time in days he looked relieved, and smiled back. His smile was always a surprise, rare and suddenly shining forth from the- no matter how well groomed- somewhat intimidating beard.

“Shall I try roses next time?”

“No, I'm allergic.”

Blackwall laughed, then used the hand that was still tangled in her hair to pull her forward. She scooted towards him, then slid into his lap, wrapping her legs around his hips and her arms about his neck.

“I'm sorry.” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I was an ass.”

“I was too.” She said. “I went back on my word.”

“What?”

“I brought up the whole... other thing. I said I wouldn't do that. It's done.”

“It's... not really the sort of thing that you can just sweep under the rug, love. It's bound to come up.” He sighed into her hair and pressed a kiss to her neck, just below her ear. She leaned into him, closing her eyes and relaxing into the smell of leather and hay. “There are no words... but I'm sorry for that too.” He tilted her head back up with a gentle finger on her jaw.

What would probably have been a toe-curling kiss had their lips had a chance to meet was disrupted by a sudden lunge from the dog, who had become impatient at the lack of attention and took the opportunity to apply his tongue liberally to the side of Evelyn's face.

“Blackwall!” She yelled as she struggled to sit back up under the weight of the massive creature. “Help!”

Blackwall just sat there laughing at her.

“Come on this dog is heavier than me- get OFF- Aren't these things supposed to be massively intelligent and well trained?” She panted once she finally freed herself and convinced the animal to sit.

“I think their handlers usually don't giggle as they give commands.” Blackwall said dryly. “Perhaps we should reconsider the dog.”

“Don't you dare.” Evelyn scowled with mock ferocity before turning back to the Mabari. “I'm not used to dogs yet but I just know I'm going to be wonderful with them- stop licking me. Yes I like you too but you don't need to lick me- whose dog is this, anyway?”

“The Queen's kennel master arrived early this morning to discuss establishing the kennels here.” Blackwall said, reaching over to scratch the massive hound behind the ears. “He lent me Cassius here while he settled into his quarters.”

“Andraste's tits. What time is it? Should I have been there to meet him?”

“No, he arrived just before dawn. It's not even time for morning drill yet. Plenty of time before you have to be Inquisitoring.” He laughed as Evelyn's attempts to get up and start pulling herself into some semblance of order were thwarted by the dog refusing to take the weight of his chin off her lap. “I may have promised Cassius the leftovers of your breakfast.”

“I see.” Evelyn leaned over and grabbed one of the now cooling rashers of bacon from her plate and held it between forefinger and thumb above the dog's nose. “If I give you this will you let me stand up?” The dog immediately jumped off the bed onto the floor and assumed a pose of exaggerated polite begging. “Oh you're a good boy. Here- hey!” She shrieked as her second attempt to stand was foiled when Blackwall grabbed her around the waist from behind and pulled her back onto his lap.

“What?” He said. “You didn't give _me_ any bacon.”

“Let go, you- you overgrown shoebrush! I have Inquisitoring to do! Don't you know I'm extremely important around here!” She giggled as he kissed her neck. “No really, let go. If you keep doing that I'll never get up.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” He said, letting go and standing in order to sketch a formal bow. “I'll leave you.” He strode to the door, summoning the dog with a snap of his fingers. The dog slunk after him, casting a dejected glance at the remaining food on the breakfast tray.

Once the door shut behind him Evelyn began changing into her hated uniform, but even Josephine's dreaded pyjamas couldn't keep the grin from her face. When she later strode through the great hall into the courtyard she had regained the bounce that characterised her steps that had been lost several days before.

**Author's Note:**

> So, anyway. This was a response to a prompt sent to me by fangirlwriting. It was "Sorry kiss."
> 
> I romanced Blackwall, of course, because I have a Thing for beards and northern accents. He disappointed me when the obvious plot point happened but I had just about recovered when I went to speak to him in Skyhold and then. THE EGGS.
> 
> Oh man. You should have heard me screaming at the computer screen. Background info: I hate cooking. I am resentful that I have to cook for my partner when he comes home from work. I hate eggs. I was having a bad day. Blackwall was too flippant for me. It all rolled together into one big bitter ball of Feels that I carried around for weeks until this prompt was sent to me. Obviously Blackwall has things to be sorry for. But I wanted to make him sorry for the eggs. The fact that he follows that comment up in-game with something much nicer is immaterial. EGGS.
> 
> Unfortunately my Inquisitor is actually nicer than I am so she forgave him and I am not done with my cartharsis yet. Expect modernAU househusband!Blackwall fics where he is covered in baby sick and keeps having to pick out the eggshell from the pancake batter.
> 
> If anyone who didn't romance Blackwall is for some reason reading this anyway and wants to know what on earth I'm talking about:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlgtB1ST_pE

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning? (Podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148216) by [gaymingtrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymingtrash/pseuds/gaymingtrash)




End file.
